


Celebrating

by BotanyCameos, yeaka



Series: Botany's Cameo [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Breathplay, Cock Cages, Corsetry, Crossdressing Kink, Dom/sub, Dominance, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, M/M, Mild Painplay, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Panties, Past Abuse, Sex Toys, Submission, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotanyCameos/pseuds/BotanyCameos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khan wants to turn their games up a notch, now that Marcus is long gone and Jim’s helped him fully recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpesAbrin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpesAbrin/gifts).



> Yeaka’s A/N: This is for SpesAbrin, who is officially one of the best things to ever happen to me. Recently, she betaed a whole novel for me! Thank you so much, darling!! ♥ And thank you to BotanyCameos for doing the gorgeous art, as well as her and abbeyjewel for betaing~
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

  
  


  


  
Art by BotanyCameos

  
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When Jim opens the door, the light comes with him, streaming through the apartment to paint the floor of the bedroom, licking just around the edges of the walls. Khan’s eyes idly fall to the shadow moving in it, his legs crossing and his posture straightening. There’s a crick in his neck; Jim’s a little late. Khan stayed and waited, naturally. Now his shoulders are sore from being drawn behind his back, his wrists tightly bound in military-grade handcuffs, but he didn’t spend such effort binding himself just to try and struggle loose over an extra hour of waiting.

Besides, Jim Kirk is more than worth waiting for. In his defense, he isn’t likely to know it’s their anniversary. Or a kind of anniversary, anyway. Khan’s superior hearing picks out and defines Jim’s jacket hanging up, Jim’s shoes being kicked out of. Jim’s shadow moves closer, and he appears in the doorway, ordering automatically, “Lights, one hundred percent.”

Khan’s head lifts off his chest, flickering eyes meeting those of his lover, and he grins at the reception he sees. Jim’s blond eyebrows lift up his forehead, his pretty lips parting. He takes a step closer, blue eyes raking over every last centimeter of Khan’s body.

Sitting regally on the edge of the bed, arms bound behind his back and legs now uncrossing to spread, Khan’s done himself up for the occasion. He’s fastened a pair of sheer stockings, frilled around the edges, to a matching garter belt around his waist, held up by ribbon. The straps reach over his black lace panties, a little bow on the front highlighting the bulge of his cock. It took considerable skill to tuck his impressive length inside enough to fully conceal it, and he has to be careful in his movements to keep his tight, shaved-hairless balls from spilling out the sides. He’s trimmed his pubic hair down, the dark tufts barely peaking outside of the panties. He watches Jim’s eyes catch and stall particularly long on his crotch before moving up the corset, which Khan has done neatly up in the back. The boning gives him extra shape, though he’s left himself room to breathe. The lace along the top was clearly meant to just barely cover his nipples, but Khan’s already stroked them to hardness and pulled them out, leaving the little nubs to peak over the edge. Now the lace cutting them, combined with the cool air, is enough to keep them pebbled. He knows that Jim has a particular fondness for playing with his tits, and he allowed for that accordingly.

As Jim stalks forward, the question in his eyes nearly drowned in _hunger_ , Khan drawls, “I thought we’d celebrate the anniversary of Marcus’ demise with a little... flare.” Jim’s steps only just falter; whatever moral reservations he might have about celebrating death is clearly counterbalanced with his want, and Khan planned for that: planned to give him a treat he couldn’t refuse.

He bends over Khan, forcing Khan to lean back, until he’s fallen to the bed, and Jim scoops an arm around his nipped-in waist. He’s hiked up as Jim crawls over him, pushing him higher up in the bed, giving room for Jim to make it onto all fours. Khan’s legs still dangle over the edge beyond his knees, but Jim has his space. With his arms trapped beneath his weight, Khan’s chest is arched higher, pressing eagerly into Jim’s as Jim descends on him, licking a wet trail down the side of his face. Khan shivers in delight and gives in to Jim’s sloppy, unorthodox affection: animal licks and kisses all over his neck and face. Jim nips at him and marks him and grinds a hard, too-clothed cock into him, slow and steady. Jim’s knees are on either side of his waist, but he can feel the touch, like Jim’s arms bracketing his shoulders. Jim finally kisses a meandering path to his mouth, capturing it with feral teeth and a needy groan; Khan moans in delight. He would’ve waited hours upon hours for this, and it’s _worth_ all the time he ever suffered.

Jim’s teeth scrape along his bottom lip when they part, and Jim nuzzles into the side of Khan’s face to growl, “Fuck, you’re _hot_. How can you do this to me?”

“Just trying to keep up with my virile lover,” Khan chuckles, and he lifts one knee to rub his thigh along Jim’s: tantalizing. Jim’s eyes roll up before dropping back down to him, and Khan continues to explain in his most luxurious purr, “You’ve been very, very good to me, Jim. I know you were gentle at first. Trying to keep me safe from old wounds. And I know we’ve been slowly healing, going farther and harder, but it’s been a long time now, and I’m ready, and I _want_ you.” His voice lowers several decibels when he hisses, sincere and coated in sex, “Now, I want you to _fuck_ me, brutal and filthy. I want to have lots of depraved, kinky, dirty sex. I want to go. All. _Out._ ” He punctuates his words by drawing his stocking-covered foot up Jim’s leg, scrunching up the uniform, and Jim shivers with half-lidded eyes.

Jim opens his so-kissable mouth, and Khan murmurs, “Don’t you _dare_ ask me if I’m sure.”

Jim laughs without mirth, shakes his head and mutters, “I don’t want to be like him.”

Khan counters easily, “I assure you, he never came home to find I’d willingly dressed myself up in panties and bound myself just for him. I never chose to put myself at his mercy.” Khan turns his face to Jim so he can run his lips up the shell of Jim’s ear, whispering huskily into it, “And I _never_ begged him to fuck me like I’m begging you.”

That seems to be all the convincing Jim needs. They’ve had this conversation a thousand times. Like he always does under the lust and love that flows between them, Jim surrenders himself to their very mutual desire. A second later, he’s flattened Khan into the bed, grinding the entire length of their bodies together and fucking Khan’s mouth with his tongue with an unrestrained fury. Jim can make love so sweetly, but Khan knows that he’s also quite capable of crude debauchery, and that shows now in the way Jim kisses: like he wants to devour Khan whole. When Khan’s own tongue attempts to defend itself, stroking tentatively on the side of Jim’s, he finds it sucked up into Jim’s mouth and scraped with Jim’s teeth, like being shown a lesson. His bottom lip’s bitten hard—he won’t be surprised if he starts to bleed. For a few minutes, all Jim can seem to do is crush his mouth, slam their separated cocks together, until Khan’s is full and swelling in its confines, desperately wanting more.

Then Jim picks him up again, clutching tightly to his hips, and Khan’s lifted higher, until his head drops into the pillows. He shakes his head out, letting his dark hair halo his face, and he tilts his chin up, mouth open in invitation. Jim simply hovers over him, asking coolly, “You remember your safe word, babe?”

Khan nods but doesn’t dare reiterate it—he’s so keyed up that there’s very, _very_ little Jim could do to provoke it. Satisfied, Jim smirks as he grabs Khan’s shoulder.

He turns Khan over suddenly, stifling Khan’s gasp of surprise with a mouthful of pillow. Jim’s on him in a heartbeat, sitting right on his ass. The weight is welcome. Khan can feel the outline of Jim’s cock through his pants, and he grins up into it while Jim works at the handcuffs—a fancy set than Khan can seal, but only Jim can open. It’s a level of trust he’d never give another man. Hopefully, Jim knows that.

Jim releases them, and Khan’s wrists, red-rimmed, fall limply to his sides. He sighs against the pillow, “I liked those...”

Jim rubs his back soothingly, and then he’s abruptly rolled over again, left to blink up at the ceiling. Jim grabs both of his wrists and easily pins them to the headboard; Khan obeys and lets himself be rearranged. He holds his hands together like a good boy, patient while Jim restrains him. He’s handcuffed through a decorative hole in the headboard’s Starfleet insignia: a cutout that’s proved itself useful before for just such an occasion. Khan doesn’t bother testing the stability afterwards; he’d surrender even without the binding. This is just an extra spark to make him salivate while he’s played with; Jim rewards his good behaviour with a litter of kisses all over his face. Jim descends on him again, the weight and warmth more than welcome. The real prize is the large package between Jim’s legs, something that rubs liberally all over Khan’s. Jim captures his mouth again before murmuring against it, “That’s better. I’m sure you like having your pretty body thrust up against me, but if you’re going to give yourself to me fully, you’ve got to have a bit more discipline...” Khan chuckles against his lover’s lips; now _that’s_ something he’s never been accused of lacking.

Talking gives way into a litany of kisses, just as hard as before. A skilled captain and a natural-born leader, Jim dominates him expertly, while Khan helplessly submits himself. Jim’s hands start to roam, and Khan does his best to behave, not to writhe and push into Jim’s hands, but it’s difficult. Jim pets down his pecs, stopping, of course, to play with his rosy nipples, already too tender for Jim’s assault. It stings when Jim pulls them and tugs them and rolls them harshly around beneath his palms, but it’s a pain Khan more than welcomes, and his groans only seem to encourage Jim’s abuse. Jim tweaks Khan’s nipples until they’re bruised and raw, and then he traces down the curves of Khan’s corset, squeezing every few centimeters to reach the flesh beneath. It digs the boning into Khan’s skin, but he’s hoping for bruises to show for it tomorrow; he wants to remember this anniversary for as long as possible.

Khan can feel Jim’s smile when he smoothes over the garter belt, and then Jim’s hands are twisting around Khan’s ass, moving to squeeze both cheeks. The panties aren’t nearly big enough to cup him properly; his cheeks are spilling out on both sides, and the bulge in the front pulls them taut, making the panty lines dig in. Jim’s fingers pry beneath them, spreading him, and Khan parts his legs high in the air, offering himself in his fullest capacity. Jim kneads his ass a few times, lifting him off the bed to grind their crotches together, and then two index fingers are drawing down Khan’s crease, and Khan growls when Jim’s mouth pulls away.

Jim’s fingers are rubbing over the little string spilling out of Khan’s tight, puckered hole, and they grab at it to tug. Khan grunts, gritting his teeth, and Jim asks through his smirk, “What’s this?”

“I like to be ready for you,” Khan states simply, though that’s hardly a reason to stuff himself full of large, glossy beads. Jim’s expression says as much, and he sits up, pushing Khan’s thighs back, so he can get a proper look. He moves the extremely thin bottom of the panties aside, holding Khan’s balls and cock up and out of the way with the other hand. The contact makes Khan want to growl again and buck into Jim’s palm, but he’s better behaved than that. Khan would hold his knees to his chest, but with his wrists bound, he has to make do with lower body strength alone.

Jim tugs on the string a few times before finally applying enough force to bring the nearest bead against Khan’s entrance, which he can feel bulging out in an attempt to keep in its prize. Biting his lip and trying not to swear, Khan relaxes his ass, trying to part his hole, waiting for Jim to pull it out.

Instead, Jim pops it back inside, crooning, “Push it out for me, baby.” And Khan’s eyes flash in response; it’s far too big for those sorts of exercises. And the other ones are too deep inside him. But Jim just waits and plays with the string, alternatively jerking on it and letting it fall lax. Khan’s head digs back in the pillows, and he _tries_ , he really does. Jim doesn’t give him any help. Khan’s left alone to twitch his hole more and more, warming and stretching it, until he can squeeze enough to push the first beat past his convulsing brim. Jim pets his thigh and croons approvingly, “There’s a good boy... c’mon, empty yourself out, you naughty thing...”

Khan ignores the contradiction and tries to push the next to the front, but it’s slow going. Finally, he collapses back in the bed, panting and hoping Jim will take pity on him. Chuckling over his exertion, Jim taps Khan’s flailing hole and encourages, “Come on, Khan. I know you can do it. Mr. Augment with your well-used ass... I thought you were all ripe for me. Or does that sweet ass of yours need more training...?”

Moaning at the sheer thought of Jim _training his ass_ , Khan manages to push the second bead up. He’s immeasurably grateful when Jim tugs on the string, pulling the bead out. He can hear as much as feel the sick squelching sound of the lube coming with it. Jim idly tugs on the string and muses, “Just how many of these things have you got inside yourself, love?”

Glowing at the rarely-used pet name, Khan smoothly answers, “Ten.” When Jim grins heatedly at him, Khan can’t help but blushing, even as he adds simply, “My ass _is_ an augmented one. ...And you _do_ keep it well used.”

“With a tight little channel that can hold in ten of these monsters, how could I not?” Jim chuckles and gives Khan’s balls an affectionate squeeze; Khan gasps and bucks his hips, ignoring the short slap it earns him. Jim’s fingers return to the string.

Then they yank it, suddenly and _hard_ , and Khan tosses his head back and _screams_ as the beads come ripping out of him. Jim’s pull is relentless; he sucks them all out in rapid succession, forcing Khan’s channel to spasm, release, and lose itself to Jim’s demands. It _burns_ , but fortunately, Khan’s lubed himself enough for it not to tear. It’s just a dull, aching pain he willingly accepts, and when the final ball topples out of him, he’s a whimpering, helpless wreck. They were never meant to be used like that. They weren’t even meant to all be together: not with the size they are; Khan had to piece it together himself. Now the round giants have left his hole gaping and empty, and he knows he’s leaking lube onto the bed, staining his panties. He pants for air as the puckered muscles of his asshole struggle to regain their usual tightness. Jim makes it harder by poking inside him with busy fingers, making clear noises of approval.

Jim uses his spare hand to stroke Khan’s stomach, and he purrs with a grin, “Good boy. There’s my Khan... now look how ready you are for me...” Khan tries to stifle his groan, but he doesn’t manage, and instead whines like the wild, mindless creature Jim turns him into. Jim leans down to reward him with another peck, then crawls away.

At first, Khan growls in dismay; he doesn’t want to be left alone, not now, not while his cock is straining so hard against the front of his panties that it threatens to rip them apart. But as soon as Khan sees Jim’s hands on the bottom of his shirt, Khan settles back. He even continues to hold his legs spread and in the air, showing himself off. While Jim strips himself down, he smiles and notes, “Thanks for the view.” Khan clenches the cheeks of his ass and flutters his hole invitingly, and Jim chuckles, “You don’t have to entice me, honey. Trust me, I’m already there.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” Khan comments, before retreating into a huskier purr, “And now that you’ve taken out my practice toys, I’m so empty, and I need you to fill me back up.”

Jim looks wholly amused. He kicks out of his underwear, leaving his bare, gorgeous body to shine in the light for Khan’s pleasure. Khan knows he’s fortunate to have probably the most beautiful man in Starfleet, and it shows in every angle of Jim’s body on every step it takes. He walks around to the drawers and pulls the middle one open, extracting something that Khan can’t see. Even when Jim turns around, his grip covers most of it, blocking off the view. Jim strolls back to the bed, hard cock bouncing in the air, and he grabs the string of beads off the mattress, taking it back to drag along Khan’s inner thighs. Khan welcomes the mess with grace, though he’s pleased when Jim forgoes staining his new corset, instead picking it up and taking it to hover over Khan’s face.

The thought of tasting things that just came out of his ass should probably disgust him, but with Jim’s pretty face smiling down at him and the raw, musky scent of arousal on his lover, Khan can hardly think to refuse. He opens his mouth obligingly, and he lets Jim bob the last bead down into his mouth, resting on his tongue. Jim leaves it for a moment, then lets go, and the row drops to smack against Khan’s cheek, harsh enough to snap his head aside and make him whine around his mouthful. While Jim laughs and walks around the bed, Khan busies himself with spitting out the toy and trying to shrug it off his face, all too aware of the lube smearing over his cheek.

He jolts when his panties are lifted up, and he glances down to see Jim holding it open with one finger. The other hand slips a silver set of bars down over the head of his cock. It’s cold to the touch; Khan shivers. It’s pushed all the way forward, and then Jim has to use both of his hands to maneuver Khan’s balls through the last hoop, leaving the final ring tight around his base. With the cock cage secure, Jim glances up, as though expecting Khan to protest to the new toy. Honestly, he’s a little surprised; he has no idea when Jim purchased such a thing, but he knows Jim must’ve just been waiting for the right time. Pleased, Khan nods his approval, and Jim taps a series of buttons along the rim of the base ring; all of the rings, connected by more bars running the length of Khan’s cock along the top and bottom, instantly snap to a smaller size, shrinking tightly around Khan’s member. He cries out at the stab of pain, but they don’t constrict any further; the rings have tightened just a little beyond his threshold, forcing his engorged flesh to bulge around the hoops.

“It shrinks to fit,” Jim divulges, carefully watching Khan’s expression flicker between pain and pleasure. “Well, close enough to, anyway.” Jim puts one knee on the bed, then climbs back on, shuffling up towards Khan’s ass. He plucks Khan’s left leg from the air, settling it over his shoulder, and pushes the other down to the bed, still out of the way. He toys with the bottom of Khan’s panties, moving it easily aside again, and hums, “I hope you don’t mind if I keep you on the edge for a bit. You look so good like this, you see, and I want a chance to use you thoroughly before I let you come...”

Khan nods in understanding, though it’s all obligatory. It’s obvious that Jim, as gentle as he’s been up until now, has a lot of pent up kink in him. He’s pulling out all the stops, and that’s just what Khan wanted.

Khan mewls happily when he feels the spongy head of Jim’s cock pressing at his open hole, and a second later, Jim’s _slamming_ inside. There’s no need for preparation, no sense wasting time on fingers and lube; Khan’s wide open and wet for his lover, and he takes Jim’s mammoth cock with a cry of sheer ecstasy, leg bending over Jim’s shoulder so his heel can try to force Jim further in. There’s no need. Jim’s sliding right to the hilt on the first thrust, plundering Khan’s sore walls, nearly as wide as the beads were, but there’s so much more _mass_ to this. Jim’s cock is long and thick and pulsing with life, shifting inside him as it coaxes apart his velvety walls. Khan, desperate to clutch at Jim as much as he can, clenches his ass tight around Jim’s dick, and it earns him a hiss of pleasure.

Jim gives him barely a moment to adjust, then pulls out almost all the way and slams back in with the force of a hammer, nearly shoving Khan up into the headboard. It sets the pace for a quick, relentless rhythm; Jim pulls out again and stabs back inside. Khan breaks and croons, arching up as Jim leans down over him, letting their stomachs brush and his lips hover over Khan’s; Khan desperately lunges up for a kiss. Jim cruelly turns away and shoves him back down. Khan’s pounded into the mattress with monstrous force; Jim may as well be a feral beast in the grip of heat. Khan’s caged cock struggles against Jim’s stomach, leaking out the tip and pleading release, but Jim’s hands are busy tracing Khan’s corset. Now that Khan’s body is truly being put through labour, the corset does make it more difficult to breathe; it restricts the expansion of his lungs. Jim seems to like that. He squeezes Khan’s waist as Khan gasps and groans, head thinning under the overload of senses.

While Jim’s hands stroke their way down Khan’s sides, his powerful hips ram Khan over and over, only intensified when Jim grabs his ass and holds him into it. Jim tugs and pinches the warm flesh he holds, but mostly, he just holds it in place, leaving it ready and waiting to receive the force of Jim’s cock. Khan’s ass is trembling in the tight grip, but he does his best to please, even as his own body’s overwhelmed; he clenches around Jim and twitches his hole and bucks up when he can, meeting thrust after thrust. As if filled with a need to claim every last bit of Khan’s body, Jim uses his nose to nudge Khan’s head straight, then slams their mouths together, taking what he can.

Breathing becomes exponentially harder, and Khan’s fucked to the point where he thinks he might pass out; Jim’s cock and Jim’s tongue are a dizzying combo. Coupled with Jim’s hands and the exquisite expanse of Jim’s naked body, consciousness is difficult to retain. Khan scrambles at it while Jim fills him with bliss and digs bruises into his skin. The cock cage trapped between them becomes a nearly unbearable torture—Jim has a way of hitting the perfect angle every time, and Khan’s mercilessly pleasured beyond all decency. He’s made to writhe and moan and he wants to beg, but he doesn’t have the air and Jim’s trapping his mouth. He could buck Jim off, but he wouldn’t dream of it; as agonizing as it is, Jim’s dominance is all Khan ever wanted, and he’s suddenly gripped with the overwhelming desire to only come when his lover wishes. There’s a heightened bliss that comes from obeying Jim’s commands, from offering submission to the man he chose. Jim chews on Khan’s bottom lip and kisses a wet trail away, pressing Khan’s face against the pillow while he pours filthy promises into Khan’s ear.

“I’m going to fill you up, baby,” Jim purrs, and his teeth scrape along Khan’s strong cheekbone, somehow managing to stay steady while the entirety of Khan’s body is wracked with the force of Jim’s thrusts. “Going to fill you nice and full with my cum, until you reek of me and can barely walk straight. Maybe I’ll do it again tomorrow and then pull your pretty panties up and parade you out in the light of day, without anyone knowing about the lace glued to your crotch with the mess of my love...”

Khan groans at the thought and nods when he shouldn’t, even though Jim’s got his head pinned down too much to allow the movement. He’d _love_ to wear panties soaked in Jim’s cum, love to walk around soiled and stained, love to have Jim wash away the old, crusting evidence and splatter him in new, wet seed... Khan’s cock twitches painfully against its bars, but he wouldn’t dream of asking for its release. Instead, he relishes in Jim’s brutal use of his body. He squeezes his ass tight around Jim’s cock to show his love, and he nuzzles against Jim’s cheek: pleading for more kisses.

Instead, Jim bites the bridge of his nose and pulls away, sitting up and holding in his leg. Khan stares through dilated pupils and half-lidded eyes, so overwrought that he can barely function, and he isn’t going to last, he’s going to explode with this _want_ and melt into the blankets...

Jim slams home and _roars_ , and a rush of hot, teaming cum floods into Khan, drenching all his insides. Khan screams with his own pleasure, chest arching up as he’s filled to the brim, as Jim continues to pound inside him, ramming in every last drop. Khan fights to survive, and for one fleeting second, he thinks his augmented cock might actually break its chains, burst free and splatter right up to the ceiling.

Instead, it keeps him on the edge, millimeters from an orgasm, and he nearly cries in frustration: so close and yet held captive. Jim’s hips slow to a crawling grind, and then they halt. Jim sits back, remnants of his own high all over his beautiful face. He pants for a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes, and then he lazily pulls out of Khan with a loud, wet noise. He climbs off the bed to stand.

He makes no move to free Khan, and Khan isn’t about to ask. Jim strolls to the head of the bed and bends down to pet Khan’s cheek, and Khan, too strung out to manage anything else, _stares_ at Jim’s flagging cock. At first, he thinks Jim’s going to feed it to him, but instead, Jim simply asks, “So you want to stop now?”

Khan’s eyes flash and dart up. If there’s more, he _wants_ it. He turns his face to nip at Jim’s hand, and Jim smirks proudly. Apparently, he’s finally become comfortable with sparing no expense. He carries himself like a king, and Khan’s the royal courtesan.

He runs his fingers up to the handcuffs holding Khan’s wrist together, and he asks quietly, “If I let you go, are you going to be a good boy?”

Unable to resist, Khan purrs, “That, or very, very naughty.” They share a look, and Jim undoes the handcuffs. As soon as they fall apart, Jim’s hands are on him, grabbing at his arms, his neck, his shoulders, and he’s wrenched upwards—Khan has to struggle to keep up while Jim pulls him into place, until he’s stumbling off the bed and onto his feet. He’s yanked by the hips against Jim’s body, the cock cage pressing hard into Jim’s stomach, and Khan groans, latching onto Jim’s shoulders for support. He wants to be kissed, and leans in for it—Jim spares him one long, languid kiss.

Then he’s spun on the spot and shoved down into the mattress—Khan catches himself on his arms, only to be forced the rest of the way. He turns his face in time, and his hips automatically buck into the bed—anything for more pressure, but he’s not surprised when he’s smacked across the ass. Jim has to hit him five times before he finally settles, and Jim hisses, “Naughty boys get spanked, remember?” Khan hesitates; a part of him _wants_ to be spanked; he wants Jim’s hands all over him. But the rest of him knows he can’t take that; it’ll be far too painful when he’s not allowed to come...

He’s slapped a few times anyway, hard blows across both his cheeks, smarting even through the panties. It takes Khan several strokes to realize Jim’s waiting for his voice; Jim always likes his voice, and he moans, “I remember.” Jim gives him one more, then squeezes his abused ass for good measure.

Then Jim puts a knee against that sore ass and hikes himself up onto the bed, using all of his body weight to crush Khan’s trapped cock into the mattress, and Khan cries out in a tangled mess of sexualized anguish. Only his augmented genes keep his sanity. Jim rubs that knee between his cheeks and grabs the strings of the corset—Khan can feel the bow being plucked from his middle. He tries to look over his shoulder, and he’s told, “I don’t think you did this up tight enough, darling.” Khan takes in a large gulp of air, no longer sure he’ll have the privilege of doing so later.

Jim starts at the very bottom. He doesn’t unlace the corset; he probably wouldn’t have the patience to do it back up again. Instead, he tugs the first set of crisscrossed lace, pulling the one below as taut as possible, and Khan makes a choking noise; it digs into the skin around his waist. Jim moves up to the second one, doing the same, then the third, each time retaining the impossible standard he set before; any slack at all is utterly abolished. Jim makes it beyond uncomfortably tight; it’s _painful_ , but Khan relishes that and just buries his screams in the blankets. It doesn’t even cross his mind to use his safe word. He lets Jim mold into him curves he doesn’t have, lets Jim nearly crack his ribs in an effort to block all his air, but Khan’s no normal human, and he can take it. He can handle any brutality his lover ordains to give to him, and each new ache only brings him closer to the edge of a cliff he can’t seem to jump over. Jim finally finishes and ties the bow again. It takes longer than Khan would think—Jim’s probably double knotting it; he’ll need to: each breath Khan takes threatens to throw it open. His breaths are now laboured. He has to breathe shallow and slow, and he takes a moment to wrestle with these new conditions; everything’s just that little bit foggier.

He lets out a hoarse yelp when Jim climbs off his ass and smacks it again, barking, “Strip for me.” Khan unsteadily lifts to all fours on the bed, but when he lifts a hand to touch his stomach, catching breath before he moves on, he’s spanked again and ordered, “Leave the corset on. Let’s see if we can’t make you pass out for a change.” So Khan rolls over, wincing at his sore rear touching the mattress, and unclips his garter belt. Jim watches with rapt fascination as Khan drags the frills across his skin.

The stockings, now unattached, are easier to take off, and Khan forces himself to sit up for it, even though being upright makes the world spin. He’s just grateful Jim’s patient. He unrolls the right one down his thigh, and, rather than risk bending over, lifts his leg to scrunch it off the rest of the way. He can only imagine how he must look, done up in lingerie with his legs spread and his ass leaking fresh cum, panties contorted to give better access to his hole. Jim certainly seems to admire the view. He stares avidly at each little movement, and Khan moves onto the second stocking, gradually growing used to his new breathing capacity. For the panties, he lies back on the bed and brings them down his hips, holding both his legs up to take them off, and then he folds them neatly and places them beside himself on the bed—perhaps he’ll wear them later.

Jim takes a moment to admire him, and Khan spreads his legs helpfully, leaning back to show everything off. All that’s left is the corset and the cage, and Jim doesn’t seem inclined to remove either one soon. Khan tosses back his hair and enjoys being admired, or as much as possible with his very hard cock throbbing between his legs.

“You’re a work of art,” Jim comments, and Khan grins, knowing he could say the same of Jim.

Jim holds out his hand, and Khan, almost surprised by the show of chivalry amidst the rest of their torrid game, takes it. Jim guides him from the bed, across the bedroom, and over to the bathroom, while Khan smirks at the obvious route of their next game. Inside, Jim loops an arm around his waist and splays a hand against the small of his back, shoving him forward. Khan stumbles towards the large, white tub, knowing his place.

He slips inside with as much grace as he can manage, shivering over the coolness of the polished surface against his warm skin. He sits on his ass, even though the solid floor is far more painful than the bed, and he hooks his knees over the edge of the tub, giving him room to slump against the tile wall. Jim comes to stand between his feet, smirking up a storm.

Khan sighs, “You’re going to ruin my new corset.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Jim asks, “You don’t want me to piss all over you?”

Khan bites his bottom lip, holding his tongue. He _always_ wants that. He shows it in the way he leans forward, mouth falling open. He sticks out his tongue—ready to catch what he can. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of being drenched his lover’s piss, but just as much as having it slither down his skin, Khan likes it in his mouth, likes it splashing onto his tongue and cascading down his throat. He’s sure his pleasure-wrought face is saying as much. Jim strokes his half-limp cock once, looking at the target.

Then he abruptly turns to leave, waltzing out of the bathroom before Khan can make a word of protest. “Jim—” But he’s back a moment later, sporting the handcuffs, and he spins them around one finger while he surveys Khan’s body.

“Now, should I tie those pretty hands of yours behind your head, or behind your back...?” Khan doesn’t care, just so long as he gets his present. Deciding on his own, Jim leans over, pulling Khan forward by the hair. Khan winces but stays bent double, and he holds his wrists together against the bottom of his spine to help. Jim clicks the handcuffs on and pushes Khan back, straightening into position.

He pumps his cock once more, and a stray droplet leaks out, before he shakes it and splatters several across Khan’s face—he squeezes and the stream starts, jetting out to smack right over Khan’s nose. Khan shuts his eyes just time, mouth wide and tongue back out, and he delights in the way it oozes down into his lips, straying to cling to his chin and drip to his collarbone. Jim flicks the spray and lets it paint a line down Khan’s chest, leaking into the corset, further down, then spreading over his crotch and forming rivers down his thighs. Jim’s obviously been holding it in; the stream is thick and warm and steady—Khan leans forward to try and get more in his mouth, gulping it down as soon as he gets a full load. While he’s swallowing, it coats his skin. Warm droplets run down the base of his cock, catching on the bars around it, and Khan whimpers in frustration—his cock is trying desperately to break its confines, but the cage is too strong. There’s nothing quite like being _marked_ by his boyfriend, scented like a dog and irrevocably stained. When Jim spends too long on the rest of Khan’s body, Khan tilts forward, mouth straining to catch what he can.

Jim chuckles and lets Khan get tantalizingly close before stepping away, and when Khan tries again, Jim grabs a chunk of his hair. Jim uses the iron grip to hold Khan steady, to move his face around, tilting it so that every angle gets a taste of Jim’s piss. Shuddering in bliss, Khan lets himself be manipulated. He gets a sick pleasure out of Jim pulling his hair, hard enough to threaten to rip it out of his scalp. By the time Jim lets go again, the stream is dwindling, and Khan, wild with lust, does everything he can to keep himself under it.

Eventually, it pitters out, and Khan, perpetually caught at the edge, lunges up to lick the final beads from the tip of Jim’s cock. He’s half surprised Jim lets him, but the rest of him is too lost to care. It’s difficult to reach with the way his body’s bent, but he manages to lock his lips around the mushroom head and suck for all he’s worth, swallowing everything he can.

Jim grunts a useless, “Fuck,” and thrusts forward into Khan’s mouth. Khan nearly gags but regains himself right after. A second hand joins the first in Khan’s hair, and Jim uses that grip to slam Khan down his shaft; Khan splutters and takes it. He was hoping for this. He tries to hump the brim of the tub, rubbing his bound cock uselessly against the edge, but with his legs bent as they are, it’s difficult to manage. He sucks Jim’s cock anyway, hollowing out is cheeks with the force. He would bob up and down, but he doesn’t have to; Jim does it for him. Jim grabs Khan’s head and holds it still while his hips piston his cock down Khan’s throat. Khan licks at the underside when he can, delighting in each little rippled vein along the top of his mouth and the spongy head in his throat and the mess of pubic hair that’s shoved against his nose. He moans around Jim’s quickly-hardening cock, and he’s rewarded with more harsh thrusts, mercilessly enough to knock his jaw out. 

It’s too early for a full second round from Jim, but that doesn’t at all make Jim soften. He fucks Khan’s face vigorously, until his cock’s bursting in Khan’s mouth, spilling an ample amount of cum down Khan’s throat. It’s not as large a load as it was earlier, but it’s more than most men would manage, and Khan savours every drop. As soon as Jim’s hands slacken, Khan pulls back enough to taste Jim’s seed properly, sucking to encourage it to dribble out onto his tongue. Jim makes a short noise above, and Khan knows without looking that he’s earned a smile. Jim strokes lovingly through his tousled hair—probably the only part of Khan that’s still dry.

After it’s all through, Jim pulls back, and Khan whines as his favourite cock slips out of his mouth. His whine turns into a groan, then a growl, and he bucks against the side of the tub again, halfway delirious. He reeks of Jim’s piss and can still feel Jim’s cum in his ass, and his lips are swollen and his torso’s achingly restricted. His wrists are sore, but his cock is the worst of it. It twitches helplessly in its binding, and Khan keens in desperation, unwilling to use his safe word but still in desperate need of release.

Jim sinks slowly to the floor of the bathroom, rests on his knees, and puts his elbows on the edge of the tub. He rests his chin in his hands and asks, “Do you want to come, baby?”

What kind of stupid question is that? Khan mewls in a ‘yes,’ trying to dart closer for another kiss, but Jim jerks away and chuckles, “You want to kiss me with that dirty mouth?” Khan just scowls; Jim’s kissed him after far worse. But it’s the game he wanted, so he settles.

Jim purrs, “Good boy,” and leans over him, hand slipping into the tub. He fingers Khan’s wet cock through the bars, squeezing, staining his fingers with his own piss. Then he traces back up and pinches Khan’s left nipple, the other hand joining the right. They’re ripe and pebbled, easy to grab, and Jim toys with them cruelly, twisting and tweaking and tugging until Khan’s squirming and trying to press back into the touch, half a plea for more and half to soothe his sore chest. Jim just laughs while Khan humps the air and moans and collapses every few thrusts; the lack of air’s too much for him. His lids are so heavy that it’s difficult to keep them open, mouth permanently wide, cheeks burning and stuck that way. He arches into Jim’s ministrations anyway, and Jim toys away to his heart’s content.

Then, finally, he lets go, and he moves down to cup Khan’s balls instead. Jim squeezes them in one hand, drinking in Khan’s cry, and Jim warns, “Careful, darling. If you pant too much, you’ll pass out, with the way you’ve got that lingerie of yours...” There’s no culpability in his voice, and there shouldn’t be. Khan’s too dizzy to stop; he works himself into a new sweat anyway, compounding a musky scent onto the dirty one. It’s going to take him half a dozen showers to get clean again.

No matter what Khan does, no matter how he writhes or whimpers or hisses, Jim just keeps toying with him, poking through the cage and tugging at his balls. Finally, Khan’s eyes dampen with frustration. Then Jim’s tapping buttons around the base ring, and Khan, too delirious to know why, nearly sobs his gratitude. As soon as the cock cage springs open, Jim rips it away, and that’s all Khan needs—he _shrieks_ louder than he ever has in his life. His cock spasms to the edge, orgasm midway for far too long, and he spatters all over his own chest, shooting more than he thought possible; his cock’s swollen and sore and painting him in more mess. The pleasure’s too much—it crowds his mind, Jim’s pretty face blurring before him—and for a moment, everything goes black. Khan falters and slumps, and shudders, _claws_ back to consciousness, barely able to cling on. Jim makes a soothing noise and pets his wild cock like a beast that needs to be tamed, and under that, Khan spills everything he has.

When it’s over, he’s crashing down, swaying back against the tile, bound hands digging into his back. He’s struggling so hard for air. The world is a little black ball in his head, fuzzy around all the edges.

He barely registers it when Jim bends to scoop him up, an arm herding his knees back together and falling behind him. He’s hiked into the air, scooped against Jim’s chest, and lifted from the tub. He rests his damp cheek on Jim’s shoulder, wholly unable to function.

Jim deposits him softly on the bed, presses a kiss to his dirty lips, and murmurs a gentle, “I love you.” Khan nods vaguely; there’s no air to say it back.

Jim pats his side, and Khan obediently rolls over onto his front. He’s mostly relieved when Jim opens the handcuffs and starts to tug the strings of the corset loose, though a small part of him is, bizarrely, sad to have it over. That was easily the best orgasm of his life, and with Jim, he’s had some pretty amazing ones. Jim deftly unlaces the entire thing, and once Khan sits up, knees still on the mattress, Jim tugs the string out entirely. Khan, clutching the front of the corset to his chest like a bodice, catches it. He places it aside and looks down at his pecs, cut into with deep, red lines below his nipples—his skin is all pink and tender. Khan heaves a sigh of adoring relief: that’s better. He can breathe again, but he has the marks to show for it.

He feels Jim press another kiss to his shoulder, and Jim mumbles in his ear, “How about dinner to celebrate that anniversary? There’s probably a few places still open...”

They won’t be by the time Khan has a shower. But when he looks over his shoulder, one eyebrow lifted, he sees Jim’s mischievous face, and knows that isn’t in the cards. Returning the clever look, he muses, “Shall I wear my new panties?”

A firm smack on Khan’s ass is his answer. He gasps, and Jim kisses his neck, kisses his shoulder, bites in and starts to suck in a mark while Khan moans, “You’re not tired...?” He could, perhaps, clean his face with a warm cloth, cover the rest of himself and attempt dignity, then manage to stay awake long enough to dine and take Jim back for another round. But he’s an augment, and Jim’s come twice.

Jim lets go of the bruise he’s left, then reaches over to get the folded panties. He drapes them over Khan’s shoulder and purrs, “Don’t you want to keep up with your virile lover?” 

Khan, grinning, climbs off the bed and lets his lover help him back into his panties.


End file.
